“Weed killer. Lots of it. And paperwork. You?”

“I’m going to talk to Rock about being reassigned.”

Brian winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah. I’m going to head into the forest, see if maybe Terri is hiding out there. It’s the best place for a weed to grow undetected.”

“Good point. I’m going to do my best to get the town meeting under way.”

Amara’s brows rose. “Town meeting?”

“Parker was pissed when he got back from his hunt. He damn near lisped, his fangs were so long. He wants the town to know about Terri so they’ll stop accusing you and start blaming him.”

Amara blinked. “What?”

“He hopes they’ll all condemn him for bringing Terri into town and leave you alone.” Brian shrugged. “I tried to argue with him, but when a vampire starts lisping, a Renfield starts nodding and yes, sir-ing.”

Amara wanted to bang her head on the table. If the townspeople decided to blame Parker, they’d hunt him down and kill him. Hell, she was surprised no one had tried to hunt her yet. “Tell him to hold off on the blame game. Or better yet, I’ll do it when I get home.” She’d have to have a long talk with her lover about the wisdom of pissing off an entire town of supernaturals. The weres alone would tear him to pieces without a second thought. Everyone, even Noah Wulfenbach, had loved Ken Madison. For his death alone the pack would want blood. “I’ll see you tonight. Tell Greg I said bye.”

“I will.” Brian looked sad. “He hasn’t spoken much today. I think he guarded us last night, and it took a lot out of him. He’s tired, and if he expends too much energy, he could fade away or be pulled to the other side of the Veil.”

“Tell him not to overdo it.” She couldn’t begin to imagine what Parker would do if he lost Greg. “We need him here too much, okay?”

Brian nodded, and Amara left, praying whatever shit was about to hit the fan did so far away from the people she loved most.

It didn’t take long to get from her house to the learning center. Rock was waiting, his thick arms crossed over his massive chest, patient as the stone he was named for. “Morning, Amara.”

Amara locked the jeep and pulled her hat low over her eyes. “Morning, Rock. We need to talk.”

Rock led the way into the center. “Talk.”

“I can’t take the kids.”

Rock didn’t even break stride. “Why?”

Amara filled him in on what happened the night before and the reaction of the townsfolk. “So if they see I’m the one leading the group, they’ll pull the kids.”

Rock grunted. “Going hunting?”

Amara almost sagged with relief; Rock understood and, more important, approved. “Yeah.”

He went into his office and pulled down a shotgun. “Need this?”

“Nope. I’ve got it covered.” She permitted bark to surface on her hands. “Do me a favor? Keep an eye out. If something smells rotten, it might be. Guard your back.”

“Will do.” Rock put his hand on her shoulder, the heavy weight reassuring her that Rock could take care of himself and probably every person in the center. There were surprising depths to the earth elemental that few people took the time to appreciate. He was much stronger than he allowed others to realize; only his closest friends knew how strong. “Take care. I have a bad feeling about today.”

Amara nodded. She’d be doubly on her guard. Rock’s bad feelings tended to be understatements. The last time he’d had one a Rakshasa had shown up at the center demanding the head of the weredragon. He’d refused to believe there was no weredragon and never had been. It had taken Rock hours to get the idiot to leave, and the damage to the center had been extensive.

The Rakshasa had been very stubborn.

She’d better be prepared for Armageddon if he was taking the time to warn her. “Thanks.”

“Amara?”

“Hmm?”

“Make sure you come back. Any way you have to.”

It was sweet the way Rock looked out for her. She couldn’t wait to introduce him to Parker. “I will.”

She stepped outside and scented the morning air. Crisp and clean and full of green, growing things, the fragrance usually left her feeling invigorated. Today she had to wonder what rot lurked under the clean odor. She left for the woods before the first students arrived, determined to stay away from the residents of Maggie’s Grove for however long it took to find Terri and snap her like a twig.

A few hours later the late-spring heat was beginning to wear on her. She’d found no sign of the witch, but plenty of signs of the local werewolf pack. They often ran together on the nights of the full moon, dancing under Her light and reveling together in ways a nonwere would never understand. But last night hadn’t been a full moon, so why were they out running as a pack? Did they have a new member?

A low growl sounded behind her. Amara froze, knowing what that sound meant. That wasn’t the sexy Parker growl, or even the one where his beast had come forth, determined to protect her.

This growl was the one of a wolf on the hunt.

The pack was after her. It didn’t take more than a second for her to realize it was fight or die. The next second was spent dropping her backpack and racing through the trees as fast as her limbs would carry her.

The pack had forgotten something. They thought the forest belonged to them.

They were wrong.

Amara’s thoughts whispered through the trees, danced across the grass, lifting roots to trip paws and branches to whip into snouts. The forest rose in defense of one of their own, and the weres yelped in pain and surprise as it turned against them.

Amara’s feet flew across the ground, fast on her home turf. The pack had been foolish to confront her here, where she was strongest. She felt the energy flowing through her, the forest gifting her with its strength. Her skin tingled. Her bark covered her, protecting her from claws and teeth. The red leaves of her maple swirled around her as she grew. Soon she’d be ready to face them.

They were gaining on her, would be on her soon. She’d need to face them, teach them not to chase a dryad in the woods. Let them learn the true power of the forest they played in, hunted in. This might be the wolves’ playground, but it was Amara’s spiritual home, and she knew every square inch of it.

Ah. There. The perfect spot to confront the pack. Amara turned and let loose her own howl, grinding the sound out until the trees swayed before her, bowing to her will.

Silence fell as her challenge ended. Amara waited, patient as the forest itself. The foolish pups would be unable to stop themselves from answering her challenge.

One by one they stepped out from between the trees, from underneath bushes, their hackles raised, their teeth bared. They would attack her, destroy her if they could, to protect the town from the menace they thought she was.

And for that alone Amara would let them live. They were protecting their own. She could understand that. But she refused to lie down and bare her neck to the pack alpha for something she hadn’t done.

They stared at one another, the dryad and the wolves. No birds sang, no insects chirped. The forest waited for the first move in a battle that could change Maggie’s Grove forever.

It was a wolf who moved first, leaping through the air, snarling, enraged. A branch whipped out, knocking the wolf to the forest floor. And it was on.

Amara’s consciousness sank into the trees and plants surrounding her. They became extensions of her limbs; their thoughts became hers. She knew without turning that a young wolf was sneaking up on her. A sturdy birch entangled him in its branches before he could lay one paw on her.

Before her, the alpha snapped and snarled, held back by the thorns of a bush that had moved in front of him. Another tree bound a wolf in its roots, holding the wriggling form until the wolf gave up, panting under the weight of dirt and wood. Amara shifted forms, allowed her inner self out in defense not only of herself, but the wolves as well. She twisted and turned, careful not to do lasting damage to the creatures in front of her. A body fell under one of her blows, unmoving but alive. She swung at another and heard the snap of bone, knew she’d broken one of the wolf’s legs. The wolf whimpered and maneuvered out of the fight.